Adventures of Bobby Orde

by Anonymous

  XXV

  THE HOLE IN THE CAP

  For perhaps ten seconds Bobby sat absolutely motionless while a newthought was born. Then, oblivious of surroundings or of the exasperatedobjections of those near him, he clambered over the rail and wriggledhis way to the open aisle. Several tried to seize him, but he managed insome manner to elude them all. Once in the open he darted forward towardthe astonished officials. His freckled face was very red, his stubbyhair towsled, his gray eyes earnest. The sheriff rose from his seat asthough to stop him.

  "I want to see that cap!" cried Bobby to the blur in general. He caughtsight of it, ran to seize it, looked at it closely, and threw it downwith a little cry of triumph. The bullet holes were not both at the top:one perforation was high up; but the other, on the left hand side, wassituated low, near the edge. Bobby knew that the man who had worn thatcap must have been hit.

  The judge's gavel was in the air, the sheriff on his feet, a hundredmouths open to expostulate against this interruption of a graveoccasion.

  "Mr. Kincaid did not do it!" cried Bobby aloud.

  The clamour broke out. The sheriff seized Bobby by the arm.

  "Here," he growled at him, "you little brat! What do you mean, raising arow like this?"

  Bobby struggled. He had a great deal to say. All was confusion. Half theroom seemed to be on its feet. Bobby saw his father making way towardhim through the crowd. Only the clock and the white-haired judge beneathit seemed to have retained their customary poise. The clock tick-tockeddeliberately, and its second-hand went forward in swift jerks; the judgesat quiet, motionless, his chin on his fists, his eyes looking steadilyfrom under their bushy white brows.

  "Just a moment," said the judge, finally, "Sheriff, bring that boyhere."

  Bobby found himself facing the great walnut desk. Behind him the roomhad fallen silent save for an irregular breathing sound.

  "Who are you?" asked the judge.

  "Bobby Orde."

  "Why do you say the prisoner--Mr. Kincaid--did not commit the deed?"

  Bobby started in a confused way to tell about the cap. The judge raisedhis hand.

  "Were you present at this crime?" he asked shrewdly.

  "Yes, sir," replied Bobby.

  The judge lowered his voice so that only Bobby could hear.

  "Do you know who murdered Mr. Pritchard?"

  "Yes, sir," replied Bobby in the same tone, "I do."

  "Who was it?"

  "I don't know his name. He's sitting----"

  "I thought so," interrupted the judge. "Mr. Sheriff," he called sharply.That official approached. "Close all doors," said the judge to himquietly, "and see that no one leaves this room. Mr. Attorney, yourwitness here is ready to be sworn."

  Bobby went through the preliminaries without a clear understanding ofthem; or, indeed, a definite later recollection. He was deadly inearnest. The crowd did not exist for him. Not the faintest trace ofembarrassment confused his utterance, but he got very little forwardunder the prosecuting attorney's questioning--the matter was toodefinite in his own mind to permit of his following another's method ofgetting at it. Finally the judge interposed.

  "It's not strictly in my province," said he, "but we are all anxious forthe truth. I hope the prosecuting attorney may see the advisability ofallowing the boy to tell his own story in his own way. Afterward hewill, of course, have full opportunity for cross-questions."

  This being agreed to, Bobby went ahead.

  "Mr. Kincaid lost his cap, just as he said, and Curly carried it intothe woods and dropped it. Another man came along and picked it up andput it on. Then he walked through the thicket and came up with Mr.Pritchard. He knew where Mr. Pritchard was because Mr. Pritchard hadjust shot his little rifle at a hawk or something. He stabbed Mr.Pritchard, and then walked down hill and climbed up on a stump to lookaround. He was facing down hill. He saw Mr. Kincaid and Curly way below.Just then his cap was knocked off by another bullet."

  "What other bullet?" interposed the prosecution sharply.

  "That was just an accident," said Bobby confusedly, "it happened to hit.It wasn't shot at him at all."

  "You mean a spent ball from somewhere else? Who shot it? Where did itcome from?"

  "I'll 'splain that in a minute. Then he ran as fast as he could----"

  That was as far as Bobby got for the moment. A slight confusion at oneof the doors interrupted him. Almost immediately it died, but beforeBobby could resume, the sheriff elbowed his way forward.

  "Laughton--you know, that second witness, the fellow who worked forPritchard--tried to get out. I have him in charge."

  "Hold him," said the judge. The sheriff elbowed his way back down theaisle.

  "How do you know all this?" began the prosecuting attorney.

  "If Mr. Kincaid wore the cap, why isn't his head hurt?" demanded Bobby.

  "If the shot was fired by Pritchard, when lying on the ground,"explained the attorney, "it would not have scraped."

  "But it wasn't," persisted Bobby. "It was fired from down hill, andabout thirty feet away. That would hit the man, wouldn't it?" heappealed.

  "Certainly."

  "Well, is Mr. Kincaid hurt?"

  "This, your honour," said the attorney with some impatience, "is besidethe mark----"

  He was interrupted by a cry from Bobby.

  "He's gone!" he wailed, pointing his hand toward the seat where Laughtonhad been sitting.

  "Was that the man?" asked the judge.

  "Yes," said Bobby, "and he's gotten away."

  "Mr. Sheriff," said the judge, "examine the man for a scar or wound onthe head."

  The sheriff disappeared. The clock tick-tocked away five minutes, thenten. Finally the door swung open.

  "Your Honour," said the sheriff clearly, across the court-room, "the manhas confessed."